Dead eyes, the Corpus Occuli.
Like many places otherwhere,
Few struggle against many.
At the Worldstar's jagged point,
Where power shatters land.
Unlight stirs He Who Slumbers
Under where reality is torn.
The Awakened, as yet to be,
Venture to man's foul wounding,
And the second seal of John's writ
Shall be broken without thunder.
He Who Slumbers wakes enraged,
Uriel, incomplete and wrathful.
Before the storm of divine fury
One shall fall, and his kin avenge.
Divine form, now lifeless and dead,
Shall be folded inwards, first wings,
Then legs, arms, and lastly his head.
The shard, so sealed, seen as an eye,
Shall complete the means to waken.